ACT THREE
Twilight awoke the next morning and went to get Spike up, only to him gone again.
“Oh, no!” she groaned. She already had a big enough schedule, now she was worried for Spike even more. “He better not overwork himself again, he’ll catch a cold.”
She had time before her work started, so she suit up and went out to find Spike.
Meanwhile, Woody was up and working as usual. He had already sold a few goods to customers and made a tidy sum.
He also took time to restore Celestia’s book-- carving out new shapes, gluing them down, and giving them nice paint jobs.
Still, he couldn’t stop thinking of the story he had read the other night.
“I do give to the people…” he kept saying to himself. “I work hard, I sell them my art, and they are happy.
…Why does it not feel enough?”
He was still contemplating about it when he could hear the sounds of a shovel scraping outside.
He looked out his workshop window and saw Spike plowing the snow with his little shovel away from the sidewalk, and the front of the shop.
Woody remembered him from the other day, and remembered how bad he had balked at him and Twilight.
It was finally when Spike sneezed again, that Woody took pity on the little guy, and quickly ran outside.
“Come in…” he called to him.
Spike turned back and sniffled, “…You talking to me?”
“Yes. Please, come in and warm yourself. I have hot cocoa made.”
Spike was confused. Woody, inviting him in, after the way he behaved the other day?
It wasn’t until he sneezed again, that he agreed to take a break and warm up. So he went inside the woodcarver’s shop.
He invited Spike into the back room, where he had a hot kettle of cocoa and cups waiting, which he had brought downstairs from his house above.
Spike felt much better after her had his cocoa. “I don’t know what to say,” he remarked “This is so very nice of you. But why are you doing this?”
Woody hesitated, as if he were asking himself that very question. “I suppose… I wish to apologize for my behaviour the other day.”
Spike felt touched, “Twilight will never believe this.” he said silently to himself.
“Tell me?” asked Woody “Have you been shoveling snow all day?”
Spike nodded, “I’m trying to save up money to buy a gift for someone special.” He didn’t tell him he wanted the ballet clock in the store window; still wanting to work for it all himself.
Spike held up a bag of gold bits he had earned from his plow job. “I’m halfway there already. Another day or two and I should have enough.”
Woody noted how much Spike had made, and also how hard he worked. “The gift you’re looking to buy and this somepony must both be very special for you to do all this.”
Spike agreed, “She is… uh… I mean-- uh.” he felt silly for admitting it was for a mare.
“It’s alright, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” chuckled Woody. “When a young male buys from the heart, there is usually nothing more noble and loving.
I’m sure your specials someone will be very happy.”
Spike smiled.
He thanked Woody again for the hospitality, and excused himself to get back to work.
On his way out, he stopped at the window and looked at the clock again, just as it chimed nine for the morning.
Woody peeked through the door to the back, and saw him. It didn’t take much for him to understand just what Spike was after.
That’s when another idea happened in his mind.
Pinkie and Applejack were at their bake sale again.
“Come and get it, y’all!” Applejack announced as she placed fresh pies and more goodies on the tables.
Pinkie helped, she tried to say “They’re delicious and yummy!” but her voice was muffled behind the blindfold over her mouth-- still trying to maintain her will to not eat the snacks anymore.
They sold some pieces, and soon, Twilight came along calling out for Spike.
She stopped to talk to her friends, “Have either of you seen him?”
Pinkie shook her head.
“Got to admire the little guy for pushing himself to do it all.” said Applejack.
Twilight sighed, “That’s not what I’m worried about. He’ll catch a cold if he keeps this up, and I could use some help with my own schedule.
Fluttershy and Rainbow are already busy, and I see you two still are.”
Pinkie spoke to Twilight, with her mouth still covered.
“Pardon me?” asked Twilight. She couldn’t understand, but Applejack could translate. “She said “I wish I could help you, but we got more goods to bake.” and she’s right.”
Just then, Rarity came up to the stand, and she was looking pretty grim. She was even snivelling too.
“Um… Rarity…?” asked Twilight “Is everything alright?”
Rarity, doing a weak job of covering up, tried to keep her face steady. “Oh… uh… everything is, splendid. Just peachy…”
She purchased a single cupcake, and shakily raised it to her lips, when she finally broke down in one of her wailing sob, “…No-ho-ho-ho! Everything’s a disaster! An absolute catastropheeee-hee-hee-hee!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Applejack. “Didn’t your charity drive go well?”
Looking up from her sobs, Rarity admitted. “Everything went wonderful. I sold every single piece I gave away.”
The others were confused.
“And how is that a bad thing?” asked Twilight.
Rarity confessed as she fell to the ground in shame, “I just told you! I’ve sold and given every single thing I have away, and I don’t have any mo-ho-ho-hore!”
She remembered that just after she had given away her last piece, a homeless mare and her little baby were cold from the winter, which broke her heart to see, but not nearly as much when she had nothing left to give, nor anymore material to make anything with, and she forced to turn the mare and her baby to someone else.
“Oh, ho, ho, ho, woe is me-he-he!” sobbed Rarity.
Pinkie wiped a tear from her eyes and muttered behind her covers, forcing Applejack to translate, “That is just so sad, I can’t bear it.”
Twilight couldn’t bear this anymore herself, and perked her up. “You still made a lot of money which you donated to charity, and you can help me. I’m working in soup kitchens today to help the poor and homeless.
Maybe that’ll help.”
Still feeling shaky, Rarity got up onto her hooves. “Okay… I’ll try.”
Meanwhile, Woody was taking a break from his work, and enjoying some hot soup and tea.
Suddenly, he could hear the sound of a baby crying outside his shop.
He looked out the window, and saw a poor and seemingly homeless Earth Pony mare, with a faded yellow coat, and a long brown mane, in need of a good brushing. She wore ragged clothing, not quite fit for cold weather.
The cries were coming from her baby colt, which was cold and miserable due to having just as ragged clothes, and a musty old blanket, which couldn’t keep him very warm either.
The mother tried to rap him up with her scarf, but it didn’t help.
Woody couldn’t bear to see this. “That poor mare!” he cried to himself, and he quickly ran outside and called to her…
“My dear! My dear…! Please, come inside the shop and get warm.”
The mare desperate for warmth for her child decided to take the kindly-looking carver’s invitation and came into the store.
Soon, she was sitting in the backroom, enjoying some of the soup Woody had made, and some tea, while her baby was all warmed up and stopped crying.
Woody fed him small bits of soft bread which pleased the mare.
“Tell me…” Woody asked her “Have no nothing warmer to wear?”
The mare sadly shook her head, “I was forced to pawn my coat last week for food. I tried to visit a clothing driver earlier, but they had nothing left.”
She was the very mare whom Rarity was unable to help, and Woody couldn’t help but take more pity on her.
In a trunk in the corner were some things that once belonged to his wife, including a large, warm pink coat, and big white blanket that belonged to his daughter. He only kept them as memories of his loved once, and he could see the mare now needed them more.
He also put some gold coins from his earnings in a small sack to give her as well.
“Please, take these. They are not much, but they will help you and your child. It is the least I can give you.”
The mare broke down in tears, sobbing softly. “The angels bless you! I had nearly given up hope. My baby would have frozen!
The spirit of Hearths Warming is truly with you.”
Woody felt warmth in his heart, and he smiled, “Yes… you could say it is with me.”
Overwhelmed by his generosity, the mare pecked the elderly stallion on his cheek, thanking him again before leaving with her child.
Woody just stood where he was, feeling his cheek. He hadn’t such of warmth, or anything like it for so many years.
He looked on his workbench where Celestia’s finished book lay, and it made him wonder “…Is this what she was trying to help me see?”